


Start A Fire

by therumjournals



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Community: pintofest, M/M, Pinto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-01
Updated: 2010-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-17 13:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therumjournals/pseuds/therumjournals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Zach go camping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start A Fire

Chris answered the phone on the first ring. “Hey Zach, what’s up?”

“I need to get out of LA.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

“It’s the fucking paparazzi. I’m about to lose it.”

“And you’re calling _me_ for advice?”

“It’s worse than ever, Chris! I can’t take it anymore. They keep catching me at my absolute worst! The other day, Noah knocked my water bottle out of my hand, and now there’s a website called ZacharyQuintoPeedHisPants.com.”

Chris winced. “Ouch. Look, Zach, first of all, don’t go on the internet, how many times have I told you that? And secondly, just do what I do.”

“What, wear the same thing every day and run when you see them?”

“Funny. Seriously though. Fuck ‘em.”

“I tried that, Chris, it didn’t end well.”

“Ew, and so totally not what I meant.”

“Any other helpful suggestions?”

“You want to get away like you said? Come camping with me.”

“Camping.”

“Yeah, I’m going this weekend with a few friends. Come with!”

“You go camping?”

“Sure.”

“I was thinking more of a spa weekend.”

“Camping is kinda like a spa weekend.”

“How is camping like a spa weekend?”

“Umm…there’s mud?”

“Yeah, no.”

“Zach, picture it! You can chill on top of a mountain or something, do your salute the sun yoga  
bullshit, it’ll be great. Very cleansing.”

“I’m not convinced.”

“Fine, go to the spa. I’ll go commune with nature and you go get rubbed down by a muscular guy named Sven.”

“Sounds good to me. Later, Chris. Thanks for the help.”

“Hey, wait! Zach? Dammit.” Chris slipped the phone back into his pocket and flagged down a passing salesman. “Excuse me, could you help me out? I need some camping gear.”

* * *

“Zach, come camping with me!” Chris tried to sound enthusiastic, but he was pretty sure it came out as an enthusiastic whine.

“I thought we already went over this.”

“My friends flaked out on me,” Chris said. Zach could almost picture the pout.

“Fine.”

“What? Really?” He hadn’t thought that would work, not when Zach couldn’t even _see_ the puppy dog eyes.

“Sure.”

“What happened to spa weekend?”

“Sven’s off this weekend.”

“So?”

“So, he has very skilled hands, okay?”

“Please stop there. So, um, I’ll pick you up on Friday afternoon?”

“Sounds good.”

“Do you have camping stuff?”

“I’ve got an old sleeping bag. What else do I need?”

What else did he need? Chris had spent approximately five hours and $500 on camping gear for this little adventure. “Yeah, okay, I’ve probably got everything else we need, so I guess I’ll just pick you up then.”

“See you Friday.”

* * *

“What the hell are you wearing?” was the first thing Chris asked Zach as he slid into the passenger seat. [It was a valid question.](http://i46.tinypic.com/28by3c2.jpg) Zach appeared to be wearing some combination of long underwear, plaid flannel, a puffy vest, a scarf and a straw hat. And that was just above the waist.

“What? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Well, I guess we’re going camping, so it’s not like anyone’s going to see us,” Chris said, mostly to himself.

“Oh please,” said Zach, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, look at you. You look like you just stepped out of the L.L. Bean catalogue. Is there anything you’re wearing right now that’s _not_ Northface?”

Chris frowned. Maybe he shouldn’t have let the sales guy convince him that he needed special sweat-resistant boxers for a weekend camping trip.

“Where are we going anyway,” Zach asked, fiddling with the radio as they pulled onto the freeway. “Let me guess, you entered ‘mountains’ into your GPS and just went from there.”

“I got a recommendation from a friend. Supposed to be some cool campsites, real remote, you know, no RVs and shit.”

“Bathrooms?”

“Uh… I didn’t really ask about that.”

They both looked a bit stricken. Maybe they hadn’t really thought this through.

“Is it too late to go to the spa?” Zach asked.

“We’re not going to the spa. We’re going to pee in the woods like real men.”

“It’s not the peeing I’m worried about.”

“I brought a collapsible spade.”

“A what?”

“You know. For digging a hole…”

Zach glanced at his watch. “One minute and fifteen seconds before the conversation turns to poo. I  
think that’s a new record even for you, Pine.”

“Thanks, Spock.”

“No problem.”

The ride was a few hours long, and they spent the time in pleasant conversation, only occasionally  
reverting to toilet humor. Sure, Chris almost had to pull off the freeway to physically stop Zach from turning off the classic rock station and attempting to assault him with Lady Gaga, but the only real incident came when Zach almost ran them into the median trying to muffle Chris before he could sing one more verse of _99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall_. (Chris was secretly pleased that he made it to 87 bottles without hitting any passing semis in the process).

  
They fell silent when they drove into the mountains, in awe at the beauty surrounding them. The road twisted along the mountainside, affording breathtaking views of the valleys and the clear blue sky. The windows were down, and the cool, late afternoon breeze felt amazing on their skin after the stifling heat of LA.

“I could get used to this,” Chris mused.

“Huh?” Zach had drifted off and he ran a hand over his eyes, groggy with sleep.

“Did you fall asleep? Come on, man, it’s 5:00 in the afternoon. The fresh air is supposed to wake you up!”

“I know,” Zach said, tipping his head back against the headrest. “It’s just so soothing, you know?”

Chris didn’t say anything else, letting Zach fall back asleep for the remaining half-hour of their trip as he reveled in the silence and beauty of the drive.

Zach awoke to the crunch of gravel underneath their tires as they pulled into the campsite. They’d gotten lucky, and the campground was practically deserted. They’d reserved a nice corner site and could just barely glimpse a few tents off in the distance. They climbed out of the car and stretched, and Chris promptly walked across the campsite to relieve himself behind a tree.

“Chris, come on! Be a little civilized!”

“Zach! We’re camping! The whole point is to be _away_ from civilization! Hell, you could pee on yourself all you want here and the paparazzi would never catch you!”

Zach’s darkened in a scowl. “Not cool, man, not cool.”

“I’m just saying, this is your chance. Live a little!”

Zach mumbled that he did quite enough living in LA, thank you very much, but the truth was, he had to pee too, so he shrugged and walked away to go against a different tree. He wondered idly if urine was bad for the environment.

“Um, what are you doing?” Chris asked five minutes later, when he glanced over to see Zach sitting on the trunk of the car, fiddling with his iPhone.

“I’m googling to see if urine is bad for the environment.”

“Oh hell no,” Chris said, swiping the phone out of his hand. “No internet!” He glared at Zach, then swung his arm out, gesturing to the campsite and the woods beyond. “Look at the beauty all around you.”

Zach dragged his gaze away from Chris and looked. And yeah, okay, it was beautiful. Trees reached up to the sky, and when he actually listened, he was amazed at how many birds he could hear, chirping and calling in the treetops.

“Now come on, get up and help me set up our campsite.”

The campsite was spacious, with a firepit in the middle and a few large logs to serve as benches. Between the fire circle and the tree line was a large flat patch of leaves and grass that would serve as the perfect spot for their tent. Chris popped open the trunk and beamed at the sight of all of the shiny new camping gear, most of it still in its packaging. He rubbed his hands together and tried to figure out which one was the tent.

  
Zach had wandered off to look around, and he returned to find the tent in a pile on the ground while  
Chris stood over it, holding the directions and looking comically perplexed.

“Hey, mountain man! How’s it going?”

“Ummm…I don’t really understand what goes where.”

“Oh Chris. That’s what you get for not paying attention in Sex Ed.”

Chris ignored him and picked up a pole from the ground. “No seriously. It says this pole is supposed to go into something….but I’m not sure what.”

Zach looked at him for a minute, shook his head, muttered “too easy”, and swiped the directions out of Chris’s hands.

“Hey!”

“Why don’t you let me handle this, while you go do something…manly.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Chop down a tree or smash rocks together or something.”

“I’ll make a fire!”

Zach looked at him. “Chris, do you have _any_ idea how to build a fire?”

“Sure. Collect wood, light a match. Boom, fire.”

“Uh-huh. Good luck with that.”

“Have fun pitching a tent,” Chris called to him as he wandered away.

  
Ten minutes later, Zach was kneeling on the ground in front of the tent, grinning as he zipped up the door with a flourish. He stood up and caught a glimpse of Chris, tromping across the campground proudly carrying a medium sized log of firewood. Behind him trudged a large man wearing denim overalls and a flannel shirt, sporting a grey beard, and carrying an armful of logs.

“Hey, Zach!” Chris called cheerily.

“You found firewood?” Zach asked.

Chris gestured over his shoulder to the man behind him. “I found Jed!”

Zach raised an eyebrow. Jed dumped the wood next to their firepit and wiped his hands on his overalls before extending one to Zach.

“Jed.”

“Zach. Nice to meet you.”

“Your friend here mentioned that you boys could use a little help getting the fire going.”

Oh he did, did he, thought Zach. Chris had always been good at creative problem solving. “My friend could use all the help he can get,” said Zach, ignoring the glare that Chris shot him.

“Well, I had some extra firewood, so I figured I’d lend a hand. This here’s some tinder,” he said, tossing a small clump of bark and grass into the firepit. “Now just collect some small sticks, set them loosely over the tinder, light a match, and you should be good to go.”

Chris bit his lip. “Um, Jed, do you have a couple matches you could lend us?”

Zach rolled his eyes, but Jed just let out a booming laugh. “What were you planning to do, son, rub two sticks together?”

Chris looked bashful. Zach almost felt bad for him, but truth be told, he was really enjoying this Jed guy taking him down a peg. Jed smacked Chris on the shoulder before handing him a pack of matches out of his pocket. “Well, good luck, boys” he said jovially. “Me and Doreen are just across the campground over there, so you just give a holler if there’s anything else you need!” He glanced around their campsite with an assessing gaze, appearing rather skeptical regarding their chances at wilderness survival. Zach was momentarily thankful that the tent wasn’t still in a pile on the ground. Finally, Jed gave them a salute and turned to lumber back across the campground.

They watched him go, waiting until he was almost out of sight before they turned to each other with grins that quickly turned into giggles.

“Dude. That guy _rocks_ ,” said Chris.

“Seriously. Where did you find him? Now _that_ , Christopher, is a real mountain man.”

“I know,” Chris said wistfully. “Ahhh!” He shrieked, dropped the log he was holding, and started  
jumping around, shaking his arms. “Get it off, get it off!” He ran his hands through his hair frantically as Zach stepped closer, concerned.

“Is that what you’re freaking out about?” Zach asked, pointing at the ground, where a daddy longlegs was slowly making its way across the log.

“Eeep!” Chris said, backing up a few steps. “Kill it!” Zach rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah. You’re destined to be a true mountain man, Chris. Jesus.” Zach didn’t mention how happy he was to see that the spider was walking _away_ from them.

  
It took the entire pack of matches but, following Jed’s instructions, they managed to get the tinder lit and a small fire going just as darkness began to fall. Chris threw a couple of the larger logs onto the flame. (The spider log lay untouched at the edge of the firepit, neither of them feeling compelled to prove their manliness by picking it up).

Chris stood at the edge of the campfire, his hands raised above his head. “Woohoo! I have made fire!”

Zach rolled his eyes. “Actually, Jed made fire. We’d be sitting around your car’s cigarette lighter right now if it was up to you.”

“Okay, Grumplestiltskin, are you done harshing my buzz?”

“I’m starving. What’s for dinner, by the way?”

Chris grinned and walked over to the car. He came back with his arms full of cans, which he dropped at Zach’s feet. “Beans!” he announced proudly.

Zach gave him a look of disbelief. “I’m sorry, for a minute there, I thought you said our dinner consisted of _beans_.”

“Zach, I’m trying to have an authentic experience here. We’re going to cook beans over the fire – you know, like cowboys! It’s gonna be awesome!”

Zach covered his face with his hands and made a conscious decision to practice tolerance in the face of delusion. He took a deep breath. “Okay, Chris. Where’s the pot to cook the beans in?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled by his hands.

“We’re going to cook them in the cans! Like-“

“Please don’t say ‘like real men’.”

Chris was silent.

“Okay, then where is the can opener?”

Chris was still silent. Zach peeked at him from between his fingers. Chris was looking off into the distance with a confused expression. He glanced at Zach nervously. “Uh…”

“Chris. Would you mind explaining to me how we are going to eat _cans of beans_ without a fucking can opener?”

“Ummm…”

With a frustrated sound, Zach got up and walked over to the car. A minute later, he stomped back to the fireside carrying two bottles of red wine. He sat down on a log and pulled a corkscrew out of his pocket.

“So…” Chris said hesitantly, “we have a corkscrew, but no can opener?”

“Priorities, Christopher,” Zach said as he gripped the bottle between his knees. He gave a few twists, pulled out the cork, and lifted the bottle to his lips. He paused and glanced at Chris. “I suppose it’s too much to expect that you actually brought something as functional as cups?”

Chris bit his lip and shrugged. Shaking his head, Zach brought the bottle the rest of the way to his mouth and took a long pull. He wiped a hand across his lips, setting it down with a satisfied sound, then he turned to Chris again.

“So let me get this straight. No can opener, no pot, no cups…what the hell did you spend $500 dollars on? Sweat-resistant boxers?” He laughed when he noticed the blush creeping up Chris’s neck. “Look, why don’t you just go ask Jed if he has a can opener?”

“No, I’m not going to go ask Jed if he has a can opener! He already thinks I’m an inept city boy!”

Zach set the bottle down and looked at him. “Christopher. You _are_ an inept city boy.”

“And what, just because you’re wearing plaid, you’re some kind of Boy Scout now?”

“I set up the tent, didn’t I?”

“You brought _wine_ on a camping trip.”

“And you’re not getting any.”

Chris looked so mournful that Zach couldn’t help but take pity on him, and he reached over to nudge Chris’ shoulder with the bottle until he took it with feigned reluctance. He lifted the bottle to his lips for a long swig, and set it down with a mischievous grin.

“So, Zach. Know any good campfire songs?”

* * *

“No, no, then it’s _’I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck, with a pink carnation and a pickup truck’_ …”

“No! You missed a verse!” Zach reached over and grabbed the second bottle of wine from Chris, who was slumped against the log playing an imaginary guitar…or maybe it was a banjo, it was hard to tell.

“No, that’s how it goes!” Chris insisted.

“You forgot _‘Well, I **know** that you’re in love with him, ‘cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym,’_ …”

“Oh shit, you’re right!” Chris exclaimed, straightening up and joining in.

 _‘We both kicked off your shoes, man I dig those rhythm and blues, whooooooooooo!’_

“Zach, Zach, shhhhh…” Chris said, laughing and trying to cover Zach’s mouth. “You’re gonna wake up Jed!” he whispered loudly.

Zach collapsed into a fit of laughter. “And Doreen!” he whispered back, giggling. “And you know how Doreen needs her beauty sleep!”

The fire was dying down, and Chris drained the last few sips of wine from the bottle, tipping his head back and swallowing enthusiastically. Zach’s eyes traced the line of his throat, locking onto the sight of his lips wrapped around the bottle, and he swallowed dryly. He shook his head and wondered idly if he was too drunk, or not drunk enough. Chris dropped the bottle and turned to him with a wine-stained smile. He stood up shakily and Zach winced as he swayed slightly toward the fire before turning to stumble away into the darkness. Zach assumed he was just taking another piss, so he was a bit surprised to hear the car door slam and to see Chris walking back triumphantly carrying a long stick and a bag of marshamallows.

“Check it out! Marshmallow time!”

Zach was ready with a smart remark about processed sugar when he realized that they actually hadn’t eaten anything yet – having chosen to drown their sorrows about the lack of food in two bottles of red wine instead. So, sustenance was probably a good idea, even if it had to come in the form of sticky white processed blobs. Chris shoved a marshmallow onto the end of the stick and thrust it directly into the fire.

Zach shook his head. “That is _not_ how you toast a marshmallow.”

Chris gave him a sideways glance. “How would you know? Oh, please tell me you actually  
 _were_ a Boy Scout!”

“Close. Church camping trip.”

Chris laughed and pulled his flaming marshmallow out of the fire, blowing on it frantically “Whatever, this looks amazing.”

“That looks like a burnt turd.”

Chris chomped into it and made a face. “Mmmm,” he said, chewing slowly, black flakes of ash falling from his lips. “’s delicious,” he said through the mouthful of charred goo.

“Yeah, right,” muttered Zach, who could only look on in disbelief as Chris burned the crap out of three more marshmallows, enthusiastically consuming each one. The fact that he was licking his lips and extending his tongue to lick every bit of clinging marshmallow from the stick made the sight slightly more palatable, but Zach couldn’t quite keep his disgust from showing on his face. By the end of the third marshmallow, Chris looked a little ill, and Zach wasn’t surprised when he handed over the stick and mumbled, “Your turn.”

Zach took the stick with a smirk. “Now I’ll show you how a real man makes a marshmallow.”

“No, _that_ was how a real man makes a marshmallow,” Chris insisted, pointing to the flame. “What you’re about to show me is, I don’t know, probably how Martha Stewart makes one.”

Zach ignored him. “Keep it up, buddy, and see if I let you have a taste of my gourmet marshmallow.”

He held the stick over the fire pit, keeping it away from the flame and resting it a few inches above a patch of glowing embers where the fire had died down. He watched it carefully until a small wisp of smoke began to rise, then turned it, repeating the process until every side was a uniform golden brown. He held it up between them with a grin.

“Check _that_ out. That is perfection.” He bit into it and groaned in satisfaction. “Mmm-hmmm,” he said, nodding. “Crunchy on the outside, gooey on the inside,” he said, licking marshmallow from his upper lip. He glanced over at Chris, whose was staring at his mouth – at the marshmallow, Zach amended – firelight dancing in his widened eyes.

“So good,” Zach said, shoving another marshmallow onto the stick. He felt Chris’s eyes on him as he held the marshmallow to the embers again, turning it carefully until it was done, then lifting it and examining it closely in the firelight. “Hell yeah,” he said, “who’s going into the marshmallow toasting hall of fame, bitch?” Chris rolled his eyes. Zach _would_ view marshmallow toasting as a competitive sport.

Zach held up the stick between them, twirling it so Chris could get a good, long look at the golden color and perfect consistency, then locked his eyes on Chris as he held it to his mouth and took a bite. He let his eyes roll back in his head a little as the sweet, smoky taste of the marshmallow coated his tongue.

When he lowered his gaze, Chris was looking at him intently, eyes flicking briefly to the marshmallow. Zach quirked an eyebrow and nodded his head slightly, keeping the marshmallow stick raised to his mouth. Chris leaned forward slowly, licking his lips in anticipation. Zach opened his mouth to get another taste, and Chris surged forward, biting into the marshmallow from the other side. Zach’s eyes widened in shock as their lips brushed, and neither of them pulled away. A spark shot through Zach’s body as their eyes met over the marshmallow, the intensity of Chris’s gaze searing straight to his core. He pulled the stick out from between them, tossing it aside, and pressed his tongue into the marshmallow that remained trapped between their mouths. Relief quelled his momentary panic when he felt Chris’s tongue against his, fighting through the marshmallow to find its way into Zach’s mouth. Zach moaned and brought his hands up to wrap them around the back of Chris’s head, pulling him closer as their tongues lost and found each other again amongst the warm sugary goo.

They broke apart, smiling nervously as they licked their lips and swallowed the remaining marshmallow. They shared a look, then lunged for each other again, kissing and clutching, heedless of their sticky hands and the log pressing uncomfortably into their sides. The kiss was hard and deep, like they were chasing the taste of marshmallow as far as they could, swiping their tongues against teeth and cheeks before tangling them together again. Zach felt Chris’s grip on his neck and in his hair, possessive and needy, and felt a thrill surge through him. Finally, they broke the kiss to catch their breaths, foreheads pressed together as their chests heaved in tandem.

“Tent?” Zach asked quietly, unsure.

“Yeah, but-“ a pained look crossed Chris’s face, “we have to get the sleeping bags.”

Zach pulled reluctantly out of Chris’s grasp and practically ran to the car to grab the sleeping bags out of the trunk. Back at the tent, Chris yanked his state-of-the-art sleeping bag out of its packaging – he’d been secretly hoping the temperature would plummet to negative 20 degrees just so he could test it out - then turned his attention to the lumpy sack that held Zach’s.

“Jesus, Zach, how old is this thing?” Chris asked, his voice shaky and breathless.

“I don’t know, I think it was Joe’s. I found it in my closet.” Zach really just wanted to skip ahead to the part where the sleeping bags were out and they were rolling around on them.

Chris dumped out the sleeping bag and immediately recoiled. He put his hands over his nose and mouth and kicked the sleeping bag toward the door of the tent. “What the fuck is that smell? Oh god, did Joe _vomit_ in this thing? Get it out, get it out! Burn it!”

Zach looked mournfully at the sleeping bag, but even he had to admit that it was rather rank. “It has sentimental value.”

“That’s just great, it can have sentimental value back in the car, that thing is NOT staying in here!”

“Where am I going to sleep?”

“We can discuss that after you get this disgusting vomit bag out of my tent!” His voice had risen to what could probably be considered a shriek.

Zach picked the bag up by two fingers and dragged it across the campground to dump it back in the trunk of the car. When he got back to the tent, Chris had unzipped his sleeping bag all the way. He motioned for Zach to lie down next to him. They lay side by side in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, before Zach felt brave enough to speak.

“Chris,” Zach said softly, looking up at the ceiling of the tent.

“What?”

“Did my vomit sleeping bag kill the mood?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Damn.” Zach lay in silence for another moment, then turned to face away from Chris, hiding his disappointment and his wilting boner. Goddammit, how hard would it have been to buy a new sleeping bag? If he had, he could be making out with Chris Pine _right now_!

He heard Chris shift behind him, felt a brush of fingers against his back, then Chris wrapped an arm tightly around his torso and propped himself up on an elbow.

“Hey,” Chris whispered.

“Hey,” Zach whispered back.

Chris nuzzled into Zach’s neck and clutched his hand against Zach’s chest. “Maybe, uh…maybe we could try to revive the mood?”

“You drunk, Pine?” Zach asked, only half joking.

Chris shook his head. “I don’t think so.” And if he was, he was pretty sure he never wanted to be sober again.

For Zach’s part, he could still feel the wine loosening his limbs and his inhibitions, but the remnants of marshmallow on his lips and the potential that he tasted there had sobered him up a little.

“Kiss me, then,” Zach challenged. He kept his eyes on the side of the tent, but clasped his hand over Chris’s.

Chris ducked his head down and pressed a kiss against Zach’s neck, his lips full and dry, then he flicked the tip of his tongue out to trace a path up, biting gently when he reached Zach’s earlobe. Zach shivered and turned onto his back, reaching for Chris.

He pulled Chris down into a real kiss, opened his mouth and let Chris find his way inside with curious swipes of his tongue. Zach licked into Chris’s mouth, tasting teeth and lips and tongue and deciding that he never again wanted a kiss that wasn’t as sticky and sweet as this one. Zach felt lightheaded, almost dizzy as he focused all of his attention on the kiss and tried not to think about what this meant, what Chris wanted, and fuck, it didn’t matter, because he would be happy doing this for hours. But then Chris pushed himself up, panting, and tore off his fleece. He was straddling Zach now, looking down at him, at his kiss-bruised mouth and dark gorgeous eyes and – “Zach,” he breathed, “take off your fucking vest.” He scooted back as Zach sat up, yanking at the zipper of his vest, and together they fumbled at the buttons of his shirt. He was tugging his thermal over his head and Chris had to laugh, shaking his head.

“There a reason you decided to wear twenty-five layers today, Zach?” he asked.

Zach scowled at him as he tossed his remaining shirts across the tent. “Jesus, Chris, you think I thought we’d be doing _this_? Fuck,” he said, and reached forward to wrap his arms around Chris, pulling the blond down on top of him. He ran his palms over Chris’s back, unable to stop himself from putting his hands all over the smooth skin of his muscled torso. He gasped in surprise and pleasure as he felt their erections press together, feeling Chris tense up in his arms before he relaxed again, going so far as to slide his hips slightly against Zach’s.

“Chris,” he breathed, exhaling sharply as Chris pressed into him again. “Did you, uh...did you bring any lube?”

“No of course I didn’t bring any lube!” Chris hissed. “What, you think _I_ thought we’d be doing this?”

“Do you think –“

“Don’t you dare say it!”

“-Jed has some lube?” Zach finished, trying unsuccessfully to stifle his grin, as Chris smacked him and they both dissolved into a fit of laughter.

“Fuck you,” Chris whispered through his laughter, and he wiggled a hand under Zach, fingers slipping below his waistband.

“Unnggghhh, Chris, fuck,” Zach gasped, as his brain short-circuited.

When Zach regained his focus, Chris was holding himself up, arms muscles straining as he thrust wildly against his hip and groin. Zach pushed himself up to kiss him, to lick and nip at anything that he could get his mouth on, running his tongue up Chris’s bicep and biting at his collarbone. Chris barely noticed, and Zach found it unbelievably hot to feel his friend losing control, grinding frantically into him, focused only on how good the friction felt on his cock. He shivered as he heard the moans and grunts fall faster and louder from Chris's lips. “Ohh…uhhh….Zach…feels so fucking good…shit.” Zach gripped his ass and pressed back, saw Chris squeeze his eyes shut, and felt his body shudder against him as he came. Chris collapsed against his chest and Zach rather unceremoniously pushed him to the side, pawing frantically at his own fly. He shoved his jeans and boxers down over his hips and grabbed his cock, stroking himself hard and fast, just as frantic as Chris had been moments before. Chris pushed himself up on an elbow, leaning into Zach’s vision as Zach arched into his own hand. “Chris…guh…fuck…kiss me.”

Chris leaned down to kiss him, or half-kiss him, really, trying to keep his tongue in Zach’s mouth and his eyes on Zach’s hand as it flew over his cock. God that was hot, he thought, watching Zach working at himself, and he held his breath as he watched Zach’s abs tense and his hips thrust one last time before he came with a shout.

Zach made a move to wipe his hand on the sleeping bag.

“Dude,” Chris said, grabbing his hand and thrusting a t-shirt into it. “I do not want your spunk on my $300 Northface.”

“Really? You didn’t seem that worried about it when you came in your $30 boxers.”

“Shut up and move over.”

“Why?”

“Just, move.”

Zach scooted over and Chris slid up against his side, pulling half of the sleeping bag over on top of them. Chris rested his head on Zach’s chest as Zach curled an arm around his bare shoulders.

“You’re really hot, Zach,” Chris mumbled into his chest. “I know you hear that all the time, I just…wanted to tell you.”

Zach pulled him closer and rested his chin on Chris’s head. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?” he said, smiling.

“I think I’m drunk again,” Chris said sleepily.

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” Zach said. He pressed a kiss into his hair, closed his eyes, and let the sounds of the wilderness lull them to sleep.

* * *

Zach came awake slowly to the sounds of tires on gravel and the slam of a car door. Slowly, he took in his surroundings – the smell of nylon and sex, the taste of marshmallow and wine and Chris on his tongue. He heard the zip of the tent door and became aware of his pounding headache as Chris stuck his head in and exclaimed “We’re going hiking!” in a manner entirely too enthusiastic for Zach’s taste.

“Fuck you,” Zach moaned, clutching his head.

“Come on, get up!” Zach burrowed deeper into the sleeping bag. “It’s a beautiful day!” Chris grabbed the top of the sleeping bag and dragged it out of the tent, Zach and all. Zach squeezed his eyes shut against the sunlight that filtered down from the treetops.

“I have a hangover, asshole, let me sleep.”

“Really?! And here I thought you would be up before the dawn, doing yoga in a tree or something,” Chris said.

Zach lifted his head and squinted a glare at Chris’s feet. “You do realize that our dinner consisted of marshmallows and red wine, right? Or did you, like, eat a squirrel while I was sleeping?”

“Your attitude leaves something to be desired, Quinto. I got you something, but now I don’t think I’m going to share.”

“Is it a bed? Oh my god, is it Sven?” Zach had never been on to let a hangover get in the way of sass. He heard the car door open, then footsteps, and then Chris dropped down onto the dirt beside him. He waved something in front of Zach’s face, something that smelled tantalizingly, impossibly like… “Is that coffee?” Zach reached one hand out of the sleeping bag and groped around as Chris pulled the paper cup out of his reach.

“Coffee, fucker,” Zach said, slapping the ground.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Chris said, rolling his eyes, but he took Zach’s hand and curled it around the coffee cup. “Now get up.”

Zach briefly considered the physics of drinking coffee while lying with his head inside the sleeping bag, but, flexible as he was, he couldn’t quite figure it out, so he begrudgingly dragged himself up to sit cross-legged, taking a long sip of coffee like it was the answer to all of his prayers. Which it kind of was, at the moment. His stomach turned over with what was either nausea or hunger, he couldn’t quite tell. Chris grinned at him, and pulled something from behind his back. It was a box of Krispie Kremes, and yeah, that was definitely hunger. Zach couldn’t help but give Chris a grateful look.

“You are a lifesaver,” he said, grabbing one out of the box and shoving half of it into his mouth.

Chris raised an eyebrow. “So you’re okay that I didn’t go with the healthy option, then?”

Zach was too busy drinking coffee through his mouthful of donut to answer. He swallowed with a satisfied groan and looked at Chris with his brow furrowed. “Chris, we’re in the middle of nowhere. How far did you have to go to get this stuff?”

“’Bout an hour down the mountain and an hour back,” he said, grinning at the look of disbelief on Zach’s face.

“Jesus, Chris…thanks.”

“Well, you know…long journey part of gift and all that.” He ducked his head and blushed a little at the gratitude written across Zach’s face.

When Zach finally felt human again (after three donuts and three-quarters of his extra large coffee), he stood up slowly, stretched, and opened his eyes wide enough to realize what Chris was wearing.

“Are you wearing my vest?” he asked in disbelief.

Chris shrugged. “I made it work.” He had, too. He must have only packed enough Northface for one day, because now he was wearing a red plaid flannel, with Zach’s puffy vest half zipped over it. It looked damn good on him. And it must have been something about their proximity to the bright blue sky that was making Chris’s eyes look like glacial pools, and it must have been something in the mountain air that was making Zach want to dive into them.

“I like your style,” he managed, before he tore himself away, quickly occupying himself with picking up the sleeping bag and shoving it back inside the tent.

Chris picked up the empty donut box and carried it over to the car. “Now come on, lazypants, I wasn’t kidding about that hike.”

Zach rolled his eyes and followed Chris, reaching into his bag to pull out a hoodie to throw on over his t-shirt. He slammed the car door shut and turned to find Chris looking at him. A fleck of donut glaze had caught on the edge of Chris’s lip, and almost without thinking, Zach leaned forward to flick his tongue at it and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Any and all doubts he’d had about how Chris might feel in the light of day were quickly extinguished, as Chris pounced him, pressing him back against the car as he attacked Zach with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He had an arm around Zach’s shoulders and his other hand slid under Zach’s hoodie, clutching at his t-shirt. Zach clutched back, returning the kiss until Chris pulled away, breathless, and rested his forehead against Zach’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” he breathed. “I just…really wanted to kiss you.”

Chris winced at how lame that sounded, but Zach just chuckled and said, “Oh please, you do _not_ have to apologize for that. God, Chris.” He leaned down to kiss him again, softer this time, slower, and yeah, he couldn’t really imagine ever getting enough of this, and he really didn’t want to let go.

Finally, Chris pulled away, lust lingering in his eyes as he smiled broadly and smacked Zach on the shoulder. “Let’s go!”

“Go?” Zach had forgotten about the hike, thinking maybe Chris had revised the day’s planned events to consist solely of rolling around in the tent and going at each other, but apparently that wasn’t the case. He saw Chris looking dubiously at his feet.

“Please tell me you packed something other than flip-flops.”

Zach turned back to the car to pull a pair of hideous green and orange sneakers out of his bag and waved them in Chris’s direction. Chris wrinkled his nose. “Oh, you’re going to talk to me about shoe choice, now?” asked Zach.

“Check these babies out,” Chris said proudly, gesturing to the brand-spanking-new Gortex hiking boots on his feet. “They’re 100% waterproof!”

“Waterproof? What the hell kind of hike are you taking me on?” Zach asked suspiciously.

“It’s gonna be awesome. Supposed to have the best views in the area.”

Zach shook his head and mumbled something about a spa weekend as he pulled his shoes on and trudged after Chris, who may have actually been skipping in his excitement.

* * *

Chris clutched the map in both hands and looked around. “Ummm….”

“Oh my god, Chris, please tell me we aren’t lost.”

“We’re definitely on a trail…” Chris said, staring the map. “I’m just not sure if it’s one of these trails…” He looked up from the map, shrugged, and strode ahead.

“I swear to god, Chris,” Zach called, hurrying to keep up with him, “if you got us lost…”

Chris shoved some branches out of his way and disappeared around a bend. Zach chased after him. “Shit, remember that guy who had to cut his own arm off? Chris, I don’t want to have to cut my own arm off! Did you bring a knife? Ohhhhh…” Zach’s freakout was cut short by one of the most gorgeous views he’d ever seen – and he wasn’t even talking about Chris. They’d come to a break in the trees, a few meters before the ground dropped off, and the entire valley lay spread out beneath them. “It’s…beautiful,” Zach said in awe. Chris turned back towards him with a smile.

“I know, right! Told ya!”

Zach rolled his eyes as he walked closer to Chris, who stood almost at the edge. “You can pretend you planned this all you want,” he murmured, coming up behind Chris and sliding his hands over his hips, “but I know you just got lucky.” Despite his gruff tone, Chris could feel Zach smiling into his neck.

“I did get lucky,” Chris said, smirking as he turned his head back to catch Zach’s lips in a brief kiss.

Zach stood up straighter and shook his head, suddenly dizzy with the speed and uncertainty of everything that had happened since last night. They stood close together, looking at the view for a long moment, before Chris turned reluctantly back to the trail.

“We’d better head back,” he said. “Got big plans tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Zach. “Don’t tell me – cold In ‘n Out burgers for dinner?”

“Pshh, no! Way better!” He gave Zach a mysterious smile.

“What? Come on, tell me!” He pinched Chris’ side, and Chris yelped.

“Okay, okay, fine! Jed and Doreen invited us over to their campsite for stew.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope! And dude. Unless you want marshmallows for dinner again – we’re going.”

“We’re going,” Zach confirmed, and they headed back down the trail.

* * *

“Ow, fuck,” Chris said suddenly, sitting down on a boulder and clutching at his boot.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Blisters, I think. Fuckin’ hurts like hell.”

“Sorry to hear that, Mr. 100% Waterproof.” Zach couldn’t help but grin a little smugly. “Come on, get up.”

Chris got up, hobbled a few meters up the trail and stopped again, groaning. “I think I gotta take my shoes off.”

“You can’t walk in bare feet, Chris. There are very pointy rocks.”

“Then there’s only one other option.”

“Which is?”

“You have to carry me.”

Zach looked at him for a minute. “You don’t even have blisters, do you? You just want me to carry your lazy ass down the mountain.”

Chris stepped behind Zach and wrapped his arms around him. “Please, Zach? It’ll be a good workout! Work on those toned arms,” he said, running his hands down Zach’s forearms and then back up and around his shoulders. Zach couldn’t help but lean back into his touch.

“Fuck. Fine. Jump on, I’ll probably collapse after five minutes with a heart attack, but whatever.”

“Tie your shoes.”

“What?!”

“Tie them. I don’t want you to trip and drop me on my head.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already been dropped on your head,” Zach mumbled, but he tied his shoes and braced himself as Chris jumped up onto his back.

Chris actually wasn’t too heavy, and it was rather pleasant to have those strong arms wrapped around him and those lips dropping damp kisses onto his neck and lewd suggestions into his ear.

“Hey, Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you stop pressing your erection into my back?

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Can you stop being so mind-breakingly attractive?”

“You should see me when I’ve showered.”

“I’d love to.”

“I’m putting you down now.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re a minute away from the campsite and unless you want Jed to see you being carried around like a little princess, you probably want to walk the rest of the way on your own.”

“Fine,” Chris grumbled, sliding off Zach’s back and giving him a slap on the ass for his troubles.

* * *

They wandered slowly back to their campsite after dinner, bellies full of stew that, contrary to Chris’s assertions, probably did not have squirrel in it. It was dark already, and neither of them quite had the inclination to build another fire. Zach reached out to tug at Chris’ hand. “C’mere, I want to show you something?”

“What?”

“Just come on. Something I found yesterday.”

He led Chris through the trees at the edge of the campsite, pushing branches out of the way and stepping over logs along their path. “You’re not going to try to convince me that we’re going on a snipe hunt, are you?” Chris asked wryly.

“No, shush. Here.” He stopped at the edge of a clearing and pointed up. There was a break in the tres and the lack of ambient light meant that they had a breathtaking view of the stars littering the night sky. Chris exhaled in wonder.

“Beautiful.”

“I know.”

They stepped into the center of the clearing, and Zach cleared some sticks from a patch of ground. He sat down, pulling Chris with him.

They lay on their backs, gazing up at the stars. Zach bumped his hand against Chris’ and grinned when Chris threaded their fingers together. Chris was the first to break the silence.

“So. Are we bringing this back to LA with us?” he asked quietly. His gaze was fixated on the night sky, so he couldn’t see the expression on Zach’s face.

“Well, like I said, Alma and me are gettin’ married….” Zach drawled.

“What?” Chris turned his head, confused, then realization dawned. “Oh my god, are you…did you just make a fucking a Brokeback Mountain reference? I was trying to ask a serious question!”

Zach rolled onto his side to look down at Chris, running a hand over his cheek. “Chris Pine, I wish I knew how to quit you.”

“I wish I knew how to punch you,” Chris mumbled.

“I’m sure Jed could teach you,” Zach teased.

“That’s it,” growled Chris, punching Zach weakly in the arm and flipping him over onto his back.  
Zach leaned up to steal a kiss and Chris let him linger, pressing back with small kisses of his own. Finally Zach dropped his head back to the ground with a sigh and looked up past Chris, staring up at the stars. “I don’t know. I want to-“ he tightened his arms around Chris as if to prove it, “but I don’t know. Just...the paparazzi, and…”

“If you’re worried that they’re gonna make a website called ZacharyQuintoIsTotallyBangingChrisPine.com, then you’ll be disappointed to know that it already exists. I checked.”

Zach laughed, but didn’t turn to meet his eyes. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I do want this,” he said again, looking at Chris this time. “I just don’t know how we can make it work. And…I want it to work.”

“It’ll verk,” Chris said, in some kind of terrible accent that had Zach smiling before Chris turned serious again. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” Zach breathed, as if he could say no to those eyes, which drew him in even in the darkness.

* * *

Later, as they made their way through the forest back to the tent, Chris came up behind Zach and whispered in his ear. “Hey. I was wondering if you wanted to start a fire tonight?”

Zach gave him a confused look. “Well, I…we don’t have any matches, do we?” he asked.

The way Chris’s eyes twinkled in the darkness should have given Zach a clue. “No,” Chris whispered, “but I bet we could figure out how to rub two sticks together.”

Zach laughed, smacked him on the shoulder, and pulled him back toward their tent at a run.


End file.
